


Wait Through the Night

by InquisitorAllandra



Series: Inquisitor Allandra Lavellan [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3342794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InquisitorAllandra/pseuds/InquisitorAllandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during / after Adamant. Prompted from a thought of 'Cullen being injured after a big battle.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait Through the Night

Author’s Notes

So, I scribbled this one over a few days with the idea of ‘What if Cullen was injured during one of the big battles?’ I chose Adamant, as its far enough in for you to have made progress in the romance, and well – while the Arbor Wilds would be interesting, that seems a bit more of the poor Inquisitor torturing herself as she and company returned to Skyhold through the eluvian. ( I would think it would take the advisor’s a few days to get back.)

For those who haven’t read my Inquisition work before, Allandra is my lady Lavellan Inquisitor! Check out her blog at http://inquisitorallandra.tumblr.com/

Also, to note – Lyora, while in gameplay is my mage Inquisitor, in the storyline here she is Allandra’s older sister. This would otherwise be explained in another story that…I haven’t actually written yet because I’m horrible and writing out of order. Sorry!

My Hawke’s name is Tessa.

Anway, you didn’t click this to hear my ramble. Onwards!

InquisitorxCullen

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

Allandra heaved a weary sigh of relief as she looked around. Weary, battle-worn faces of Inquisition soldiers and Wardens alike met her gaze as they began the extensive task of cleanup. Tonight, at any rate, would be just enough so that people could get around and not get injured on unstable debris. Others were helping the injured up to the tower that was the Wardens’ medical wing.

The Dalish Inquisitor turned her head just slightly to greet Hawke as she approached, Varric at her heels. The dwarf had barely let the Champion out of his sight since they had returned from the Fade.

“They are going to be a mess without any proper leadership, Inquisitor.” Hawke murmured quietly, dark blue eyes looking around the area, a haunted look to them. “What are you going to do with them?”

Allandra bit back a sigh and a wince as a hand went to her shoulder before her own lighter blue eyes met Hawke’s. “I don’t have that many options, do I? Despite it all, we -need- the Wardens.”

Hawke nodded, expression as grim and worn as the Inquisitor’s. “I suppose you’re right about that.” The dark haired Champion frowned. “At least you’ll be able to put them to good use – and keep a close eye on them.”

Nodding, Allandra side-stepped as some soldiers limped their way by. The Inquisitor and the Champion were slowly trying to make their way up to the tower to meet with her advisor’s on the matter of the Grey Wardens. They’d all give their varied advice, from use them to banish them, but ultimately the choice would be Allandra’s. It always was.

The pair were stopped in their tracks as a messenger – who, Allandra noted, must have been bowling people over to get to them – nearly collided with the Inquisitor. Stumbling back, the messenger panting and sweating, eyed both Hawke and Lavellan with wide eyes, trying to speak but the words came out as incoherent babble.

“Whoa – slow down, I can’t understand you. If you’re from Leliana, we’re on our way.” Both women shared a glance, and Allandra saw in Hawke what she felt gnawing at her. The messenger wasn’t here just to hurry her along. Something was wrong.

“M’lady Inquisitor. Champion. S-sister Nightin—nightingale sent me to – to tell you to come quickly. Lady Vivienne and Lady Lavellan are tending th’ Commander bu’ they need y’ there—”

Allandra’s light blue eyes widened, a rock of iron sinking in her gut. “What happened?” She hadn’t meant to hiss, the words coming sharp and demanding. The messenger before her gulped, shrinking a bit in worry. “I don’t rightly know, m’lady. Sister Nightingale just told me to find you at once, and—”

“Where?”

He’d barely pointed up to the tower that was the medical wing before Allandra was off, dashing around those went by, Hawke hot on her heels. Wardens and soldiers alike who saw her coming were quick to move out of the way, murmuring as the two women flew down the halls and ramparts of the fortress.

It only really took them a few minutes to reach the tower, though Allandra would swear it felt like she was walking even as she ran as fast as the space would allow her. The dalish elf ignored the surprised guard at the door as she burst through, her ears greeted by a heart-wrenching scream that she had prayed never to hear. Allandra swallowed back a lump as she took in the scene before her.

The mages had Cullen laid out on a cot, the Commander stripped bare down to his waist. Iron Bull held his legs down, while Blackwall had his arms; Dorian had a vial of something, looked like he was trying to get the contents down the patients throat – Cullen was writhing and thrashing against the ones holding him down as Vivienne and Lyora worked their magics. From the doorway Allandra could see he was sweat-soaked, and a hellish looking wound glared an angry red at his side.

Allandra’s feet were like lead weights as she made her way across the floor; all sound seemed to drown out around her, movement seemed agonizingly slow, the elf’s focus solely on Cullen. Before she could sink down next to the cot, however, Leliana and Hawke held her back – everything seemed to speed up then, reality snapping back to normal, the roar of voices shouting crashing in on her. Leliana was speaking to her, she could see the spymaster’s lips moving, Vivienne and Lyora were shouting back and forth at each other, Dorian was calling things out to them as well, Allandra couldn’t make anything out, Cullen had suddenly gone so still—-

“Breathe, Lavellan.” Hawke’s voice cut through the roaring like a knife, tore her focus away from the others. Icey blue eyes turned just enough to see Tessa Hawke’s calmer, deeper blue. Allandra licked her suddenly dry lips, nodding slowly. Leliana’s grip loosened, as did Hawke’s. The Inquisitor drew a slow, deep breath, and released it just as slowly before allowing herself to take the last few steps to Cullen’s side.

He was so still, she thought as she sank to her knees. A shaky hand brushed back sweat-soaked golden hair from his face. Please, the silent prayer began, Mythal have mercy. Sylaise, I beg you, guide Lyora and Vivienne as they work their healing. Don’t take him from me yet. Falon’din….

She licked her lips again. When had they gotten so dry? “What happened?” Her eyes darted about the room, seeking answers. Lyora and Vivienne were quiet, concentration better focused now that the commander was still. It was Dorian who answered.

“An arrow happened. We’re not sure exactly where, Inquisitor, but we’re assuming a Warden. That, or Corypheus had agents peppered in with the Wardens.” Leliana chimed from behind her. “There was poison on it – it was something potent to drop the Commander as quick as it did.” The spymasters boots barely made a sound, but then she was standing next to Allandra, who looked up to see the Orlesian holding a wicked looking arrow.

Eyes narrowed, Allandra inspected the arrow quickly, taking note of its cruelly barbed arrowhead and the blood that had dried to the tip and most of the shaft—just as quickly, she tore her eyes away, turning them back to Cullen.

The glow of magic drew her gaze now to the wound. It didn’t seem to be as red as when she first arrived. Silently, Allandra cursed herself. She should have been there, should have –

“We took care of the poison, darling.” Vivienne spoke up at last. “The barbs on the arrow caused quite a bit of damage, so the Commander lost quite a bit of blood for it to come out.”

“Will he..?” Allandra choked on the words, unable to finish the thought.

Lyora turned her icy gaze up to her younger sister, her lips twitching at some private thought. “If I have learned nothing else of your grumbly Commander, sister, is that he is as stubborn as you, if not worse. Neither Falon’din, the Dread Wolf, or his Maker will have him this night.” She paused a moment before continuing. “Besides, he has far to much work left to do, and it simply would not do for it to be left for anyone else.”

The jest did little to ease the Inquisitor’s fears. Allandra’s only response was a bit of a twitching of her lips, gaze focusing back on Cullen’s face, letting the mages get back to their work. Lyora sighed, pursing her lips at the agonized look of her younger sister’s face.

Eventually the glow of magic faded; Lyora and Vivienne straightened themselves out, stretching out aching muscles. “We have done all we can, my dear. The rest is up to the Commander.” Vivienne said, making a final inspection of their work. Lyora settled herself against a far wall, eyes drifting shut in exhaustion, while Vivienne excused herself to go find a place to rest. Allandra had not even really noticed that all the others had slipped out of the room.

Silence overtook the room, filling every corner as it deafened even the slight sound of Cullen’s now-steady breathing. The silence did nothing to drown out the Inquisitor’s torrent of thoughts.

She had come to rely on the former templar’s quiet, solid strength, especially since the events of Haven – a bit more than she had realized, really, aher train of thinking bouncing her from one conversation to the next that she had shared with him since coming to Skyhold. The young dalish huntress had found a safety and a comfort with Cullen that she hadn’t expected, especially from a shemlen.

Those feelings had grown, she knew, whether either of them had really wanted to admit the extent or depth of them. It was then that it hit her – really hit her – just how lost she would be without Cullen. Revelation after emotional revelation punched her in the gut. That she cared for him was not a denied fact, but how -much- she cared was. It was not a thought she wished to dwell on right at the moment.

The Inquisitor could feel the blood drain from her face, could feel the throbbing pulse of her heartbeat like war-drums in her ears. The salty sting of tears laid siege to her eyes, threatening to spill as she stared down at the man, who remained much to still.

Allandra must have looked a sight,teary eyed and pale. The cool touch of magic jolted her from her thoughts, tearing her gaze away from Cullen as she yelped, whirling around to see who had decided to surprise her so. A frown formed on the Inquisitor’s lips to see her sister there – hadn’t she been resting? She was suppose to be asleep.

“Stupid da’len. You race in here, worried to a frenzy, but do you bother to say anything of your own injuries? Mythal’s mercy, Allandra. It does no one any good for you to end up in here on a cot next to you grumbly lion.” Lyora hissed as she scolded Allandra, the healing magic leaving a cool touch as it sought out the Inquisitor’s various injuries. The Inquisitor, feeling very much the reprimanded younger girl, at least had the decency to wince, even as she tried to form an exhausted protest.

“Do not bother to argue, ma muinthel*. Now remove your coat and sit still.” Allandra hissed at a sudden pain in her shoulder, which did not escape Lyora’s notice. The leather armor came off, revealing the blood seeping into the under armor. The under armor was carefully peeled away, leaving Allandra in only a simple top. She bit back a cry as her mage-sister went to work, mending the wound. That was going to smart, even after the healing was done.

Some healing magic, a couple of poultices applied for good measure, a bandage, and some time later, Lyora stepped back, eyeing her work. The elder sister nodded finally. “It will have to do, I suppose. I also suppose it is useless to tell you not to strain it much, because I know you will anyway.”

Allandra was to exhausted by then to even look sheepish. “I will do my best, Lyora. Muinthel, you should sleep. And…” the Inquisitor shook her own head to keep herself awake. “Ma serranas.”

Lyora bent down to squeeze Allandra in a tender hug before she again found her spot at the wall and sat. Allandra watched the white-haired Dalish for a moment before returning her attention to Cullen. It was easy enough to tell that Lyora wasn’t truly asleep, not fully. She had a charge under her care, and Allandra knew that as long as there was some possible risk of things going sour, her sister would not let her guard slip.

Her thoughts drifted, her mind only slightly at ease that Lyora was keeping watch, She wandered back through memories of recent events, of stolen moments on the ramparts, quick kisses and teasing flirtations, a trip to Ferelden. Late night talks and heated debates, planning in the war room, and leisurely strolls through the garden. The weight of a coin was suddenly in Allandra’s slender fingers, cool and heavy as she idly turned the coin over and over.

“I want you to have it,” He’d said, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips.“For luck.” Allandra tilted her head up, a warm smile on her own lips. The small elf covered his hand with her own. Around them, crickets chirped, a nice counter to the gentle lapping of the water to the dock the pair stood on.

They must have been an interesting sight to any who chanced seeing them; the large former templar with his shining armor and golden hair, a large mantle only making him look all the larger, and the small lithe elf, deceptively delicate with her sun-kissed brown hair and icy blue eyes, face covered in silver inking.

“For luck, then.” On her tip toes she stood, even as Cullen leaned down to meet her lips with his own. “I’ll keep it safe.” She murmured.

~*~

It was the early hours of the morning when something warm and solid gingerly brushed her hair away from the Inquisitor’s face, beckoning her back to the waking world. Bleary, red-shot blue eyes tried to blink the sleep away as she swatted at the offending thing that woke her. She hadn’t even realized she had fallen asleep, or that she had slumped over and someone had thrown a blanket over her.

What snapped the dalish elf out of any remnants of sleep was that her small hand had thumped against a much larger, rougher hand. Allandra’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as she surged upwards to a sitting position to stare down in surprise and relief.

She wanted to weep at the sight of Cullen’s honey colored eyes gazing back up at her. Indeed, a few tears fell as she smiled, diving back down to wrap her arms about his neck. There was a surprised ‘oomf!’ from the Commander, who chuckled and curled his one free arm around her back to hold Allandra close.

“Its not -that- bad, you know.” He murmured against her ear. Even with trying to put on a brave face, Allandra could hear it in his voice how exhausted he sounded. It registered then that he sounded groggy, his words slightly slurred as if from an induced sleep. Had they given him a poultice to make him sleep?

“’Landra. Its – I’m okay, look.” There was a light groan as he tried to get her to sit up. Allandra complied, quickly wiping her face.

Even with the tears and the worry, she smiled. He’d made it through the night; the Creators had given her back her Commander. He was alive and he would recover from this and be complaining about how much work he had to do by the end of the day –

A touch to her cheek and the lull of Cullen’s weary voice snapped her back from her thoughts. Allandra looked back down, brows knitting together at the worried expression on his face.

“I am sorry – I had not meant to worry you—”

He barely got any of the words out when she pressed her lips to his. Gently, at any rate – he was still injured and all. It really wouldn’t do for Lyora (who had fallen into a deeper sleep than Allandra realized, or she would have woken by now) or Vivienne or Dorian to scold her for getting the Commander all worked up.

When she sat back, he chuckled again, and offered her that lopsided grin she loved so dearly.

Loved? That’s —- no. That’s right. She thought, smiling to herself.

“Is that going to become a habit between the two of us…?”

“What, me kissing you?”

“What? No – I mean. Maker’s breath. Yes to that. I meant with – with us cutting each other off mid sentence. It seems to be becoming a habit.”

The banter and amusement was short lived as Cullen clenched his eyes shut, a low groan of pain escaping his lips. The pair settled down, Allandra helping him shift on the cot to try and get comfortable. Once he was settled, Allandra re-situated herself in her seat next to him, slender fingers again running through his hair. Really, she couldn’t help herself.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, stubbornly trying to stay awake – a losing battle against sleep, really.

Allandra pursed her lips, brows again knitting in worry. “For what, vhenan?”

He peered at her through a pained and sleepy haze. “You’ve so much more to worry about than me. You shouldn’t—”

“I should, and I will. You can let me worry about you at least a little bit.” She brushed back his hair, this time leaning forward to plant a feather-light kiss to his forehead. As much as she wanted to say and to share with him, now was not the time. Such confessions could wait until they were back at Skyhold with a few moments to themselves. “Sleep. Whether you want me to or not, I’m going to worry.” Allandra silenced his coming protest with a finger to his lips. “Sleep. I will be here.”

Whether he liked it or not, sleep won out against the Commander.

The Inquisitor smiled down at him for a moment before her attention was drawn to the window. The first rays of sunlight had just begun to peek through, bright and pure and promising.

It was a new day.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————

Ma = Dalish for my, mine, you

*Muinthel = I needed a word for ‘sister’, and since there isn’t one in Dalish that I have been able to find, I took the Sindarin word for sister.

Ma serranas = Thank you, my thanks

Vhenan = (my) heart


End file.
